


With Love from Me to You

by Predec2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 18:05:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1194492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Predec2/pseuds/Predec2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>B/J belated Valentine's Day one-fic.  Post 513. Fluff/smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Love from Me to You

 

 

  


 

 

Just a little fluff inspired by the recent Beatles tribute show with some smut mixed in.;)  Post 513.  No copyright infringement meant for either QAF or the Beatles.;)  Unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine.;)

* * *

 

  
  
“What are you doing in there?”  
  
“Cleaning up.”  
  
Brian shook his head in exasperation.  “Leave it for the housekeeper, Justin; that’s what she gets paid to do, remember?”  
  
“I know, but at least let me just rinse them off first…”  
  
“That’s what that outrageously expensive _dishwasher_ does; now put them in the dishwasher, and get your ass in here.”  
  
“How romantic,” was the sarcastic reply.  Justin shook his head as he opened up the stainless steel door and placed his and Brian’s china plates, silverware, salad bowls, and water glasses in the dishwasher, wiping his hands on a nearby towel before picking up his half-filled glass of wine and heading back out of the kitchen and into the adjacent living room. The opulent living quarters at the Waldorf Astoria was beautiful and spacious, he conceded, and it had been _his_ fault that he was having to spend Valentine’s Day holed up in his and Brian’s suite for the night.  After all, he had chosen to take the high road by letting his partner choose what to do for Valentine’s Day, and this was what he had decided.  Not that it was some big surprise or revelation; Brian still didn’t ‘do’ romance, as he often liked to point out; at least, not in the traditional sense, anyway.  
  
But as he walked out and noticed his lover reclining casually on the butter-soft, leather couch, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a tantalizing patch of bronze skin revealed in the ‘V’ of his neck, with his bare feet sticking out of a pair of custom-designed jeans, he had to admit that perhaps this wasn’t a half-bad way to celebrate after all. And when Brian looked over and flashed him a sexy sort of smile – one that he only reserved for _him_ – his opinion was further bolstered.  And then there was something about his feet.  He would have never thought he would ever develop a foot fetish when it came to another man, but there was something about Brian’s feet that inexplicably turned him on to the point of almost making him hard.  
  
“About time, Suzy Homemaker,” Brian quipped as Justin rolled his eyes.  “Come over here; you’re just in time.”  
  
Justin walked over, wine glass in hand, to stand beside him with a smirk. “Just in time for _what_?  I didn’t know we needed a schedule for _that_.”  
“Smart ass.”  Brian patted the space in between his legs.  “Sit.”  
  
“What am I now, a dog?”  
  
“Justin…”  
  
“Okay, okay.”  Justin placed his goblet down on the chrome coffee table before turning to sit down between Brian’s legs, leaning back until he was back-to-chest with his partner, his smaller legs resting perfectly in the ‘V’ of Brian’s body.  He couldn’t help sighing in contentment as Brian’s arms came to wind around his waist and he leaned further back into his embrace.  Yes, Brian didn’t ‘do’ romance the typical way; but it was times like these when Justin became convinced that he _did_ ‘do’ romance; only just in his own, inimitable way.  He had just closed his eyes and placed his hands over Brian’s when the mood was promptly spoiled, however.  
  
“Hand me the remote, Sunshine.”  
  
Justin opened his eyes and frowned.  “You want to watch TV?  What, is there a James Dean marathon showing or something? Brian, we can do that anytime…”  
  
“Just reach over and grab it, okay?”  
  
Justin sighed as Brian loosened his hold, just enough to allow him to reach over and retrieve the remote from beside his wine glass.  He none-too-gently smacked it against Brian’s hand in emphasis as he huffed in annoyance.  
  
“Don’t go getting your feathers ruffled, Picasso,” Brian murmured as he pointed the object toward the outrageously large, 52” screen T.V. and turned it on.  He pressed a button for the channel he was seeking and then laid it back down next to them on the couch.

  
Justin looked over at the screen as he heard a speaker announcing the show that was about to come on. “A Beatles Tribute?” he asked.  
  
Brian nodded, his breath tickling his ear.  “Yeah.”  
  
Justin couldn’t help smiling in delight.  Despite his relatively young age, he _loved_ the Beatles – their creativity, their timeless music and, most of all, the animations they had used in several of their songs and with their album covers.  He especially loved the “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” cover art.  “I didn’t know this was on tonight.”  
  
“Well, if you would ever get your nose out of all that acrylic, you might discover there's a whole other world outside of painting,” Brian teased him with a smile.  
  
Justin harrumphed as he cupped his hands over Brian’s.  “Shut up.  I _do_ other things besides painting.  Fucking you, for example.”  
  
“Uh, I think that’s the other way around.”  
  
Justin smirked.  “Not _all_ the time,” he couldn’t help pointing out a little smugly.  Brian cleared his throat as he continued, “I do work for a living, you know.”  
  
“…Which also involves art.   So part of the time, you _sell_ art at the NY Museum of Art.  Pardon me, big difference.”  
  
“Hey…”  
  
“Shh…” Brian shushed him as the show began.  “Don’t make me have to shut you up.”  
  
Justin grinned evilly as he twisted around in Brian’s arms until he was draped half-on, half-off the lightly muscled chest. “Is that a threat or a promise... _Mr. Kinney_?”  
  
Not one to resist a challenge, Brian proceeded to shut him up the best way he knew how as the show’s opening act started, grateful that the first several minutes consisted of a rather tame rendition of one of the Beatles’ earlier hits.  Several minutes of tongue-fucking later, they finally broke off their kiss, resuming their previous, back-to-chest position, just in time to watch a much better performance of _While my Guitar Gently Weeps_ , punctuated by Brian playing air guitar against Justin's belly.  
  
Justin giggled.  “That tickles,” he told his partner as Brian’s hands pretended to strum along with the notes on stage.  He shivered over the sensation of Brian's lips ghosting over his skin as he softly sang along to the lyrics while he continued to ‘play’ his solo until the song was over, finishing with a flourish before his hands came to rest once more against Justin’s waist.  
  
“That was impressive,” Justin teased him as Brian’s hands tightened against his waist to pull him closer against his back.  
  
“That’s not the _only_ thing that’s impressive,” his lover told him huskily as his mouth glided across his neck, bestowing small kisses along his jawline; he smiled as heard a slight whimper escape Justin’s lips in reaction.  He knew how much that particular area turned him on.  He was just about to move his right hand lower to grasp a certain, other, impressive part of Justin’s anatomy when all of sudden he felt him start against his embrace in excitement.  
  
“Look!” He exclaimed as Justin stared, open-mouthed, at the screen.  “Shit! That’s fucking amazing!”  
  
“I know; it is,” Brian told him drolly as one hand crept under the midriff of Justin’s shirt to begin stroking circles on his belly; the other one continued its journey under the waistline of Justin’s pants and briefs toward its target...  
  
“No, I mean look at those graphics!” he exclaimed, fascinated by the psychedelic animations projected behind Dave Grohl onstage as he began to lead the crowd in a chorus of “Yellow Submarine.”  
  
Brian stopped his movements to stare over at the spectacle now displayed on the screen; why did he think this was a good idea again?  He pursed his lips together in amusement as Justin raised his hands in the air in perfect, Emmett style and begin swaying back and forth in his embrace in time with the tempo as he sang along:  
  
 _“We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, yellow submarine.  We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, yellow submarine…”_  
  
Despite the childish lyrics, Brian felt his desire ramping up as an armload of warm, blond boy tantalizingly wiggled himself back and forth against him in time to the music.  He had to suppress a moan as Justin’s ass brushed repeatedly against his cock, his hard-on growing ever more painful as his partner continued his gyrations.  “Justin…” he began in warning, but his lover was much too fascinated by the song and the animations to pay him any mind.  Apparently, if he was going to avoid coming right then and there like some virginal schoolboy, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands…  
  
All of a sudden, the television went dark in the middle of the song.  “Hey!” Justin growled, as he lowered his hands in disappointment and twisted his head around to look into the face of his lover.  “What’d you do _that_ for?  I wanted to see the rest of that!”  
  
“It’s going to be repeated in a couple of days,” Brian informed him as he stared down at the pouting, oh-so-kissable lips.  One corner of his mouth lifted wryly as his eyes peered up into the indignant, blue ones.  
  
“Why couldn’t we watch it _now_?”  
  
Brian smirked.  “Because your ass was affecting my concentration.”  
  
Justin turned all the way around in his arms then to smile at him smugly, his previous dismay promptly forgotten.  “Oh, it was, was it?”  
  
“Well, don’t go getting all cocky.”  
  
“I thought that was _your_ job.”  
  
Brian grinned before he placed his hand around the back of Justin’s neck to pull his face down for another kiss, the show promptly forgotten.  Panting rapidly a minute later as they broke apart, he rolled his eyes at the obvious look of satisfaction on his lover’s face.  He shook his head in resignation; there was no point in denying who had the most control in _this_ relationship.  
  
“As much as I love sex anywhere and everywhere, Sunshine, I think I’d much prefer the king-sized bed for our _Hard Day’s Night_ ,” he told Justin, rolling his lips under playfully.  Justin grinned with a nod as Brian nudged him gently, both of them rising from the couch.  
  
As Brian followed his younger partner toward the bedroom, he couldn’t help thinking of _another_ Beatles’ song as he admired the view, changing the lyrics slightly to fit the situation more properly:  
  
 _Something in the way he moves…attracts me like no other lover.  Something in the way he woos me…*_

 

* * *

  
“Brian?”  
  
He blinked then, as he noticed Justin turning to face him, his hands busily unbuttoning his shirt.  
  
“Something wrong?”  
  
Brian shook his head as he walked up to him.  As Justin unbuttoned the last button on his shirt and let the fabric slide down onto the floor, Brian reached over to place his left hand, palm down, onto the soft, pale, warm skin.  “No,” he whispered with a smile, his emotions openly showing on his face.  “Everything’s perfect.”  
  
Justin blushed at the tone of his voice before he nodded, reaching over to help Brian pull his sweater over his head.  Both bare chested now, the two kissed again before moving to kneel on the bed facing each other.  The darkness of the room was punctuated by the twinkle of thousands of lights outside in the New York City skyline, their faces dancing with intriguing shadows as they moved to lie down together on the bed, both men reaching to pull off their jeans and briefs to discard them vicariously down onto the floor.  
  
“Justin?” Brian asked softly as the two of them lay facing each other on their sides and he lightly stroked his partner’s upper arm; he felt the blond shiver in reaction.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
Brian averted his eyes momentarily as he asked quietly, “Do you ever regret it?”  
  
“Regret what?”  
  
He took a deep breath and let it out between his slightly-parted lips as he explained, “Coming here.  Do you ever regret it?”  
He couldn’t help a flicker of disappointment sweeping across his face as Justin shook his head.  “No, not at least in terms of my art.”  Justin placed his hand on Brian’s as he softly clarified, “But being apart from you; that’s been fucking hell.”  
  
Brian nodded, secretly pleased by that.  Only he wasn’t sure _pleased_ was the right word; perhaps appeased was more accurate.  “I know,” he admitted as they stared into each other’s eyes.  “I feel the same way.”  
  
Justin nodded as he pushed Brian down onto his back, draping his body over his lover’s.  He bit his lip as he braced his hands on either side of him.  “There has to be a solution to our problem.”  
  
Brian’s eyes bored into his.  He thought briefly about issuing some snarky comeback about how he could ‘take care’ of Justin’s problem, but decided better of it.  “We see each other as often as we can,” he pointed out softly.  Although, to him it wasn’t nearly enough.  At best, they managed about two weekends a month, and that was during a _good_ month.  In their case, ‘good’ meant being able to coordinate both of their schedules properly, which didn’t happen that frequently.  “We knew it wouldn’t be easy, Sunshine,” he reminded him.  
  
Justin nodded, a lump in his throat.  It was bittersweet each time they saw each other; at once both wonderful and exciting, but also very painful when they had to say goodbye.   “I know,” he told him at last.  “But it doesn’t make it any easier to bear.”  
  
Brian reached over to open up the bedside table drawer, pulling out a long, thin box.  “Maybe this will help,” he told him mysteriously as he handed it to him.  
  
Justin frowned.  “What is it?”  
  
“Something that I hope will make our lives a little easier,” he told him.  “So open it…and then we can fuck.”  
  
Justin flushed at the sultry tone of his lover’s voice, scooting up in the bed so he could sit on top of Brian’s legs as he lifted the lid to reveal a folded piece of pink paper.  “What’s this?” he asked as he unfolded it, noticing the words “ _Federal Aircraft Administration_ ” written across the top.  
  
“It’s a registration,” Brian informed him.  “For a private plane.”  
  
Justin’s eyes grew wide as the implications set in.  “You…You bought a fucking _plane_?”  
  
Brian smirked.  “Well, I hadn’t really thought of it _that_ way, but now that you mention it, I don’t think you’ve been indoctrinated into the Mile High Club yet, so that might be a good way of thinking about it.”  
  
“You _know_ what I mean!” Justin retorted as he eyed the paperwork, noticing Brian’s name listed as the owner.  “I don’t believe this.”  He lifted his eyes to peer over at his partner.  “This is yours?” he asked, as he looked at a thumbnail photo of the plane at the bottom of the paper.  “It must have cost a fucking mint, Brian!”  
  
“Well, Theodore calls it a very expensive tax write-off for Kinnetik,” Brian corrected him.  “But I call it a way for us to be together more.  No more worrying about airplane reservations, or trying to mix and match schedules. This way, I can come to you, or you can come to me.”  He smirked over the double entendre, pausing as Justin shook his head in amazement.  Reaching up to place his hand on Justin’s thigh,” he added, “…And when we do decide to finally live in the same city, well, then it will come in handy for other things related to my business and to your art career.  And for maybe the two of us flying up to visit Gus, too.”  
  
“I’d like to be able to visit him more," Justin admitted, still astonished over what Brian had done.  “But, Brian…When I kidded you earlier about you wanting to stay here in the room for Valentine’s Day instead of going out, I never thought…”  
  
“If you think it’s some obscenely expensive Valentine’s Day gift for you, it’s not,” Brian quietly corrected him.  “Well, not entirely,” he added.  “It IS a gift – but it’s for _both_ of us.”  
  
Justin nodded as he placed the piece of paper back into the box and set it down on the bed.  “Well...I think ‘our’ gift calls for a celebration, then,” he decided as he reached over to the still-open drawer to retrieve a condom and small tube of lube.  “Maybe I should practice for my first foray into the Mile High Club now.”  
  
Brian grinned.  “Good thinking, Sunshine.”  
  
Taking the condom, Justin ripped the top open and soon had the latex placed on Brian’s cock, noticing it already leaking profusely, a sight that only turned him on even more; he was constantly humbled by how much power he held over this magnificent man.  Gazing into Brian’s eyes, he took the lube and squirted some onto his fingers, coating his partner’s covered shaft and eliciting rapid pants of desire from his lover as he took several moments to finger himself in preparation.  
  
Rising up onto his knees slightly a short time later for leverage, he lined himself up and firmly impaled himself on the hard member, gasping slightly at the initial, burning intrusion.  It was rough and somewhat painful, but it felt...right.  
  
Brian sucked in a breath at the feelings flooding through him as Justin bore down to envelope his cock; he held on tightly to his lover’s thighs as he began to ride up and down on him, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he leaned forward to increase the penetration.  He watched, entranced, as the tip of Justin’s tongue came out to wet his lips and he moaned as Brian’s cock hit his sweet spot, over and over again.  God, when Justin was in the throes of passion, it was a fucking sight to behold.  
  
“Justin…” Brian felt the sweat breaking out all over his forehead as his blond spitfire continued to take him on a wild, sensual ride.  He arched his body upward to meet Justin’s movements as the two of them continued with their familiar, well-rehearsed dance.  No matter how many times they made love, Brian would never grow tire of this feeling, this exhilaration, this euphoria he always felt when he was inside Justin.  
  
Feeling his body tensing with impending release in record time, he reached for Justin’s cock to begin stroking it, pumping the hard, silky flesh up and down with his fingers, flicking the tip periodically with his thumb as Justin groaned loudly.  His tempo picked up as Justin’s movements quickened in turn, and he could tell by the flushed look on Justin’s skin and the intense look on his face that his lover, too, was close to climax.  
  
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he told him, his voice low and husky.  “Come on, Justin. Do it; come for me, Sunshine.”  
  
Riding an intense high, Justin leaned forward slightly and then called out Brian’s name, just before his come spurted out in copious amounts between them.  Brian continued to thrust upward a couple more times before he, too, let forth with an unintelligible, guttural grunt and flooded into the condom, his hand still gripping Justin’s now sticky shaft.

 

 

* * *

  
Several minutes later, after Brian had retrieved a pair of warm wash towels to clean themselves up, Justin lay asleep with his head on his chest, his breathing soft and regular in post-coital slumber.  As Brian tightened his arm around his lover’s shoulder and re-memorized every line of Justin's face, it wasn’t regret or sadness that permeated him at that moment; no, it was promise and hope.  Promise that they would finally be able to see each other more frequently now, and hope that one day – one day in the not-so-distance future – they would never be apart again.  
  
 _Something in the way he knows  
  
And all I have to do is think of him  
Something in the things he shows me  
  
I don't want to leave him now  
You know I believe and how…*_  
  
* _Something by the Beatles_


End file.
